


Age of Haircuts

by eng_writes



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: AOC made me feel things, Gen, Zelda angst for the soul, Zelda's mom angst, quick fic, short hair zelda, the angst is resolved though, zelda is a stem major dont @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eng_writes/pseuds/eng_writes
Summary: How and why Zelda cuts her hair after the events of Age of Calamity.
Kudos: 15





	Age of Haircuts

There was a Sheikah tradition, so Impa said, that involved cutting one’s hair after a major change in their life. A nasty breakup, moving to a new house, awakening a divine bloodline just in time to lead a ramshackle army to prevent the end of the world as we know it, things of that nature. So Zelda decided a haircut was in order. 

\--

The queen had been particularly proud of the golden locks the young princess had inherited from her. Zelda remembered sitting by the fire as her mother brushed her hair. When the queen had died, Zelda refused to let any of her handmaidens brush her hair. She would cry and scream when they picked up her favorite delicately carved comb because it looked so wrong in anyone’s hands but her mother’s. She remembered her hair becoming so incredibly tangled her father had to order her to sit down and have her knots combed out. They had to bring in palace guards to hold down her tiny fists as she thrashed and screamed, protesting and pleading for her father to stop. Zelda had eventually tired out, crying as she succumbed to her fathers wishes. He had been wearing the same stony expression she had become very familiar with in the following years. 

\--

In the lab where her mother spent her time, Zelda had her own miniature worktable. There, she drew diagrams and constructed little trinkets that her mother would fawn over. Even if her contraptions didn't work, the queen would bring all the attendants over to admire the young princess’s hard work.

Once, Zelda’s hair got caught in a stray electrical spark and the front caught aflame. Her mother quickly patted it out before it could hurt her, but some damage was still done. A sizable chunk of her precious tresses had been burnt away.

“Oh mother, now you won’t be able to brush my hair anymore!” Zelda had cried, stricken by the loss of one of her mother’s joys.

The queen had just pulled her in, “dearest, the only reason I want to brush it is because it’s attached to your head! As long as you are there, I want to sit by the fire with you, even if we’re both bald!”

“You mean it?”

“Oh Zelda, darling,” her mother cupped her small face in her gentle hands, wiping away the tears, “it’s just hair. You’re all that really matters to me.”

\--

“It’s just hair.” Zelda murmured, recalling how the words sounded on her mother’s lips.

She stood outside on the crest of a rock peeking out over a pond enjoying the morning dew. She, Impa, and Link had stopped at the knight’s hometown of Hateno Village for a night’s rest as they travelled. The other two were still asleep, and Zelda had just managed to slip away with one of Impa’s small, triangular daggers in hand. 

And now, here she stood, looking into the pristine pond at her gently wavering reflection. She ran her hands through her hair as it glistened in all it’s long, blonde glory.

From a practical standpoint, it would be convenient to not have so much hair when the inevitable monster scuffle arose. Her hair was also a nuisance around the lab, always in her eyes at the worst times.

But yet, it was still a link to who she was before the Calamity. From a time when she had her mother. Even then, she had been burdened, pressured, worried, and anticipatory, but she had been safe. It had been a time before she had her life on the line every day and the fate of the whole kingdom at her fingertips. A time when the world’s eyes were not quite yet upon her.

But now, she was the sole incarnation of Hylia’s power. The light and the leader of all of Hyrule. The savior of its people and the protector of its land. 

But she was also free of her guilt. She had proved her worth and wielded both her technological prowess and divine birthright against the apocalypse and won. She had protected everyone. And she could no longer be pushed towards any outcome she did not desire. 

She was a different person than before the world fell to ruin. One she imagined her mother would be proud of.

It was time. She held up the dagger at the base of her neck and let it sit against her hair.

Zelda had imagined the cut would be swift and decisive due to how diligently sharp Impa kept her blades, however the dagger took several sawing yanks through her hair to actually chop it off. It was, like most things she does, unexpectedly messy and inefficient, yet effective nonetheless. 

Zelda could barely hold the thick bundle of golden hair in one hand. Some of it had already slipped to the ground, collecting at her feet and scattering on the surface of the water. But nevertheless, she held it out over the water’s surface and let it fall. 

As the weight dropped from her outstretched arm, so too did the burden thick on her shoulders. She watched the bundle sink lower and lower below the pond’s smooth surface until the ripples had faded and it was out of sight. 

Only after did she realize her shorn hair was the same color as her divine magic.


End file.
